Apicata punished us all by trying to starve herself to death. She shut herself in her room and refused food. Apicius was too ashamed to visit and that only intensified her sorrow. Aelia and Passia managed to get her to eat part of an apple every day and to drink some water but we knew it would not sustain her for long.
Her once budding figure became gaunt. Her cheeks hollowed and her skin was sallow. She was dangerously weak and kept to her bed.
I didn’t talk much to Apicius. He refused my company at the salutatio and only begrudgingly consulted me about some banquets that had long been planned. I was polite but both of us had only one desire—to quickly depart each other’s company.
Finally, I couldn’t take it anymore. Apicata’s stubbornness had left her dangerously ill. I burst into Apicius’s library one afternoon, pushing past Sotas before he could stop me.
“How dare you?”
Startled, Apicius dropped the scroll he was holding. I didn’t give him time to answer. “First you crush your daughter’s spirit and now you have left her to die. What favor will you find in Caesar’s villa if your one connection there is dead?”
He blanched. His mouth worked as though trying to find the words to say. I didn’t stop.
“Your daughter loves you above all. You insulted her by not giving her the news yourself. And now you refuse to talk to her on her deathbed. I hope her shade haunts you to the end of your days, you fool. I won’t know because I’ll leave.”
I was shaking. I had never talked to a patrician in such a manner. Such disrespect could mean banishment from the household, or worse, he could arrange for my ejection from the city. I turned to leave.
“Wait.” Apicius’s voice quavered.
I braced myself for an onslaught of his anger. I was surprised to see defeat in his eyes.
“Tell me what to do.”
I realized then that the tide of our relationship had truly turned. Over the years Apicius had always been the one to give orders and now it was he asking me for advice. I did my best to temper my frustration. “Come with me now. We’ll bring her food and you will tell her you don’t want her to die. You’ll feed her and let her know she will always be in your heart.”
Apicius hesitated. “Why can’t you feed her?”
I threw my hands in the air. “Don’t you think I have tried? Every day I have tried. She wants nothing to do with me.”
“But what if . . . ?”
I had lost patience. “What if she dies?”
Apicius made a strangled sound.
“She thinks all the men in her life have betrayed her, and you most of all. It’s your duty to make amends. Talk to her. Tell her you are sorry.”
He was silent. I propelled him out the door, and Sotas followed.
? ? ?
We walked through the corridors in awkward silence until we reached the door to Apicata’s chamber. The door slaves moved out of the way as we approached. I instructed one of them to fetch me broth from the kitchen.
Apicata was even paler than when I’d seen her that morning. Her hair lay in greasy tangles around her face. Her cheekbones were pronounced, making her look haunted.
Apicius hurried to her side. I motioned all the slaves out of the room. Passia came to stand with me and Sotas.
“Where is Aelia?” I asked.
Passia didn’t take her eyes off Apicius. “I urged her to go rest. She is becoming ill with worry.”
Apicius sat on the edge of the bed and stroked his daughter’s hair. Apicata stirred and opened her eyes.
“Father?” Her voice was weak.
“Oh, my little one, I am here. I am sorry I have not come to you. You and I are truly bred from the same stock—forever willful and stubborn.” I couldn’t see his face but it sounded like he was in tears.
“Why do I have to marry him?” She could barely keep her eyes open.
“Sejanus has powerful friends.” He continued to stroke her hair. “If I ignore his request to marry you, I fear how that choice would negatively affect our family. Or your beloved Casca.”
Her eyes opened wide, the blood suddenly returning to her face. “What do you mean? He would hurt Casca?”
Apicius took her hand. “He might. I think that if Sejanus doesn’t get what he wants, he can be very dangerous.”
I wondered at Apicius’s words. Was he lying? Or had he made a bargain with Sejanus?
Tears fell across her pale cheek, glistening in the afternoon sunlight. “If he is so dangerous, why do I have to marry him?”
“He is not dangerous to those he loves,” Apicius said quickly. I marveled at how easily the lie slipped from his lips. “And he loves you beyond measure. He was quite in earnest.”
I’ll bet he was. I doubted that love was something Sejanus was even capable of.
Apicata knew better. “He does not love me.”
“Worry not, daughter. Instead, consider your duty.” His tone attempted to inspire. “Marrying Sejanus will make you important to Caesar Augustus and to his adopted son, Tiberius. Your sons will inherit great things and have unprecedented opportunities in life. And you will be secure knowing that the people you love most—your family and Casca—will be safe because of your actions. I wish it were otherwise, but Sejanus has powerful influence, little one. It is you who will determine whether he uses it for good or not.”
My jaw hurt from clenching my teeth. I couldn’t believe Apicius was putting such an onus on his daughter, using guilt to gain her acquiescence in an unbearable situation.
“But he is an equestrian . . . ,” Apicata murmured, one last, final plea.
“Yes, but he is a prestigious and influential self-made man,” Apicius countered. “The world is changing, my dear, and those with the wherewithal to create their own destinies will be the ones who anchor their stars in the heavens.”
I looked at my friends. Passia shook her head and Sotas shrugged. Apicius did not care for self-made men—like the famous orator Cicero, or Gaius Marius, who was consul six times in Julius Caesar’s reign. He thought them cheats, unworthy of such status.
Apicius turned to me, seeking what to do next. Balsamea had arrived with the broth and I indicated she should give Apicius the bowl.
He took it from her and spooned up a small measure. “Please, Apicata, take of this broth. The Gavia household depends on your strength.”
Apicata eyed the bowl. “I’m not hungry.”
“Please, Apicata, eat something. We need your strength. Please, daughter.”
She turned her head toward the opposite wall.
“Apicata, do it for Casca. To keep him safe.”
At the mention of Casca’s name, Apicata gave a nod. “Fine. I’ll eat. For Casca, who is lost to me.”
Apicius gave his daughter a kiss on the cheek. “Thank you, daughter. Thank you.” Passia rushed forward to help feed her.
“In the future,” he said as he stood to let Passia take his place, “our family will be proud of how your courage and fidelity helped build the Gavia name.”
Pretty words but I doubted them. Sejanus was likely to choke the soul right out of her.